


Office Hours

by hash_slinging_slasher



Series: Sam/Reader Smutty One-shots [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Smut, Teacher Sam, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hash_slinging_slasher/pseuds/hash_slinging_slasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've lusted after your handsome and charming English teacher for months, and when you ask for some one-on-one help after class, you bring "teacher's pet" to a whole other level.</p><p>Reader (student) is a legal adult. And I do not condone real-life student-teacher relationships at any age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Office Hours

**Author's Note:**

> So this is literally just porn, there's not much else to say.
> 
> And please note, this is 100% AU; Sam is not a hunter, he's just a regular ol' dude. :)

Mr. Winchester’s butt has never looked cuter than it does today. Maybe it’s only because he just changed the seating chart, and you have a much better angle from which to admire him, but you’ve never noticed the subtleties of it- so perfectly toned and curved, it’s obscene how much you wish you could see it in the flesh. His muscles flex when he stands to scribble tonight’s assigned reading on the board in his neat cursive handwriting. It’s the last glimpse you get before he puts the marker down and faces the class.

“Alright guys, jot this down before you leave. And don’t forget, essay final drafts are due this Friday!”

The bell rings just as he finishes speaking, and all the other students shuffle out of the classroom hastily, most not even saying so much as a thank you, or “have a nice day!” It angers you; Mr. Winchester deserves respect, gratitude! You take your time to pack up, humming quietly and looking out of the corner of your eye to see if he notices you.

He sighs and scans his rather large desk, looking over stacks of turned in assignments and beginning to fasten them with paper clips.

“Um, Mr. Winchester?” you ask meekly as you approach him, binder in hand. When he notices, he tilts his head up, and you immediately lock eyes. His features are so strong and masculine, and you're not generally into guys having longer hair, but you couldn't imagine him without those dark locks framing his face so perfectly. His eyes are a soft hazel, with uniquely detailed rings of color in his irises, green and gold and maybe a little bit of blue- so unlike anyone’s you’ve ever seen. You need to calm down. It’s hard to even speak under his gaze.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I really want to boost my grade in this class," you pause, to bite your lip, hoping it'll seem flirty. "...and I was wondering if you can offer any extra credit opportunities?”

Mr. Winchester smiles and sits back down into his desk chair, interlocking his hands and looking at you as if he was skeptical of something.

“Last I checked, you have an 86%. That’s a respectable grade, actually much higher than the class average, and it’s definitely still possible to make it an A if you do well on regular assignments,” he responds, and your heart drops a bit. You need to find some reason to stay- some excuse to get the one on one time you crave. He is, of course, oblivious to your schoolgirl fantasy, but why not let yourself indulge a bit- what's the worst that could happen?

“Well, maybe you can help me look over this rough draft?” You slip a packet of several pristine white papers from your binder, and place it in front of him,“I have a free period now, so I can stay for a bit… if that’s alright with you.”

He smiles with closed lips, and retrieves your rough draft from the desk.

“Absolutely. I’m always willing to give some one on one help to my students,” he answers. “Honestly, I wish more of them would ask for it, but not everyone is as motivated as you.”

Your heart practically leaps out of your chest when you hear his compliment, and your insides flutter with giddy, girlish joy.

“So no one comes to see you outside of class time?” You’re very purposefully trying to lead him to confess some sort of favoritism for you. That’s the next step to wooing him, you figure.

“Very rarely. I find it often really helps students, but in the end it’s their choice I guess,” he shrugs as he settles into his rolling chair.

“That’s… that’s sad, that they don’t bother to see you outside of class,” you say, smiling at him sympathetically. “You’ve taught me so much this year, and you really care about your students. It's unfortunate how some teenagers just don’t know how to be appreciative.”

His lip twitches a little, you hope it’s a sign of arousal.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He seemed a bit uncomfortable, but at the same time, you hold on to the hope that your praise is drawing him to you. “Why don’t you come around to this side of my desk?” he suggests, and you happily oblige, pulling a seat from a nearby table so the two of you can face each other as he looks over your work.

As you get settled, you intently watch his eyes scan your writing. At one point he chuckles to himself a little, with the signature smirk that makes his lips kind of twist to the side. You smile nervously, hands fidgeting in your lap as you pray he has positive feedback.

He flips to the end, and nods to signify his approval.

“That was excellent. I especially love your word choice in descriptions… very vivid.”

You turn beet red, and fail to suppress a giddy smile, which you direct shyly at the floor.

“Thank you Mr. Winchester.”

He seems to have spaced out for a moment- his eyes are just sort of fixated on something mindlessly. If you didn’t know better you’d say it was the low cut tank top and push up bra you donned today that was distracting him, but… no, he was much too professional.

“Oh, of course,” he responded, snapping out of it. “The one thing I’d say is just expand your conclusion paragraph a bit- try and restate your thesis and summarize each of your body paragraphs’ topic sentences.”

“Is that all?” you ask, a bit disappointed he didn’t have at least a little more to say about your work. You had spent the entire semester doing your absolute best- not to impress your parents, or to prepare for the AP exam, but because you want to get this teacher to actually notice you. Ever since you walked into Mr. Winchester’s classroom on the first day of senior year, not a single teenage boy has even once caught your eye. How could anyone expect you to settle for juvenile, simple-minded adolescents when you could have your adonic teacher, his sculpted chin and stubble, his long hair pushed back, his incredible stature, and the muscular body you so vividly imagine beneath his suit. If your male peers were axe spray, Mr. Winchester was the finest French cologne.

“I’ll read it all the way through tonight, and make some notes on it. Is that alright with you?” You nod instantly.

“Great then. Again, I’m really glad you could use some of your free time to take advantage of me,” he says, until he stops himself, realizing how his wording came out rather awkwardly. “...of my office hours. Taking advantage of those.” He chuckles a little- and you swear you can see him blush.

“Well, while I’m here, could you help me with… some other stuff?” you ask, looking into his eyes with a lustful gaze.

“You mean other subjects? I’m decent at math and Spanish,” he says as he shuffles his midsection around in his chair. And that’s when you see it- he’s got an impressive hard-on. You can practically hear angels singing from the heavens. You repeat it several times in your head; this is your chance, it’s now or never.

“Um, not so much school stuff, more along the lines of… some personal guidance.” You find yourself taking a bold risk, placing a gentle hand on his leg, feeling nervous and yet excited to see his reaction.

He chuckles awkwardly, but he doesn't move your hand, just sort of admires it.

"That depends... What sort of personal guidance?"

You sigh, trying to be sultry.

"There's someone I like, and I'd give anything to be with him, but-" you make sure to look into his eyes once more, just so he really gets it. "It would be wrong for us to be together... this person and me."

Mr. Winchester moves a bit closer to you, and his ever so slight cocky smirk is apparent.

"I think-," he begins, and you see him thinking his words through carefully. “If I were him, I’d let you know that if it’s something real, it doesn’t matter how wrong it seems.” He looks down at your hand, and moves his gaze slowly to you, his mesmerizing eyes looking at you with an adoration you couldn’t fathom. In your head you think, check mate.

"Then… I guess I should let him know, I'm all his," you say in a voice so intense it nearly falls to a whisper. You move your hand a little further up his thigh, testing the waters.

Your attempt to tease your teacher is quickly interrupted by a fierce, unabashed kiss. His lips crash into yours with all the ferocity and passion you imagined he had inside him, and you eagerly respond, grasping at his hair to hold on to something as you hungrily intertwine. Your mouths pull apart only so you can climb onto his chair with him, straddling his torso, feeling the bulge in his pants brush against your inner thigh. His cock is rigid, and when you think about the fact that it's for you, your cunt just gets wetter and wetter. With a burning desire, you need to feel him inside of you.

Your fingers fiddle with his shirt buttons one by one, while your hips instinctively grind against him. When all that's left on his chest is a tight t shirt, you're finally able to see the contours of his muscular form. You dip into the crook of his neck, finding a soft spot of skin and sucking at it til you’re sure you’ve made a mark that’ll stick with him for a while- if you happen to get a glimpse of it in class, you’ll remember that you gave him that painfully obvious hickey, like a sign of ownership.

"Mmm... Mr. Winchester..." you moan as you lean in close to his lips once more. Needy little fingers pitter patter down his pecs, his abs, the nice stretch of muscle leading below his belt.

"Sam," he corrects, and your heart leaps- Sam. It's so personal, when all you ever saw written was Mr. Samuel Winchester. He’s more than a teacher, he always has been.

"Sam," you moan softly. "Take it off, I wanna see you."

You pause for a moment, sitting back as he reaches his arms over his shoulder and removes the shirt in one smooth motion. Unable to curb your response, you gasp, and exaggerate it a bit so he knows how much you’re marveling at his body. He might be the most muscular man you’ve ever seen in the flesh- not like a pro-wrestler, veins bulging to the point where the man hardly looks human, but God, Sam takes care of himself. On his left pec you see a tattoo of some symbol that you don’t recognize, and it gets you so fucking hot, wondering how your oh-so-professional teacher ended up with that.

He grabs you back to him rather forcefully, one hand handing the base of your head, tangled in hair, and the other crawling under your shirt. You don’t protest one bit- he’ll have his way with you, and you can tell he knows you’ll love it all.

“Your turn,” he whispers, leaning in close, hot breath against your cheek. In the swiftest motion you can manage, you rip the fabric from your torso, and let him get a good look at your cleavage, spilling over your lacy bra. His eyes widen; he’s impressed, and your excitement only grows.

“You wanna hear a secret, Mr. Win- Sam?” you ask, correcting yourself.

He raises an eyebrow, and slides his hands back around your waist so you can straddle him again. His cock is so hard, painfully constrained by his pants- you can feel it just below your still clothed sex, and you have to remind yourself to be patient.

“Every night, I touch myself and think about you,” you moan in between drawn out kisses. “I always come, so hard, rubbing my pussy, ‘cause I just can’t stop imagining what it would feel like to have your big cock filling me up.”

“Hmm,” he considers. “Go on.”

“My pussy is soaking wet after I come, I’m dripping all down my thighs, and I want it to be your hot cum dripping out of me. I want to be your little fuck toy you can come in over and over till you're done with me.”

“You’ve been studying hard then,” Sam suggests smugly.

“Yes, I have, like a good student. Practiced every day. And now I’m ready for my test.”

“Well,” he cocks his head to the side, and grins coyly, looking you up and down like you’re artwork on his wall, for his enjoyment only. “Why don’t you present to the class?”

You nod, unable to even form words to express how much you’ve dreamed about this.

“I’ll be,” he begins, sitting lazily in his chair, and moving his hands to undo his belt. “...taking notes.”

With the unfastening of one button, your shorts are undone, and slide easily down your legs, leaving your lower body in nothing but a skimpy thong. Sam reveals the white fabric of his briefs through his fly- but he takes his time to pull out the prize.

Of course, you must begin your presentation first.

“Why don’t you lie down on my desk?

Without a word, you hop on. Slowly, tantalizingly, you snake a hand underneath your bra. With the pads of your fingers, you massage all the sensitive nerves or your areola, and purr softly, head falling to the side.

"Hmm..." Sam wonders. "Now- uncover the subject a bit more."

You know what he wants. The straps of your bra slide easily down your bare shoulders, as you prop yourself up to unhook it. When it's fully removed, you toss it onto the floor by his chair, and he grins at the site of your perky tits. You've always been proud of your breasts.

As if rewarding you for shedding more clothing, he pulls his cock out from his underwear. It's long and thick, but proportioned perfectly. In that moment, you know, you'll do whatever it takes to get it inside you, thrust as deep as it'll go, til you lose your mind.

He rubs himself slowly, and you admire the head, shining with precum. Watching him getting so horny just thinking about your body- if you're not careful, you might come off the mere thought of it.

"You want that A?" he asks demandingly. You nod.

"Then finish your presentation."

One hand stays at your breast, continuing to massage yourself, while the other slips downward, into your panties. Your middle finger finds your clit, and you make several firm circular motions, aided by the copious juices of your cunt. You let out a low, sultry moan, finally finding some release. A dripping finger finds its way to one of your nipples, and rubs the wetness all over with a soft, relaxed finger.

"Yes, that's it Y/N. Didn't know my little schoolgirl was such a naughty slut."

When he objectifies you like that, shivers ripple down your spine. You want to be used, you want to please him.

You decide to switch it up, pushing your middle finger up inside your heat, and curling it inward to stroke your G-spot. A little gasp escapes you, pleasure building up throughout your whole body- and Sam knows it. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him pumping his cock furiously.

"What's my grade now, Mr. Winchester?"

"I'd say... B+. If you want that A, you'll have to come for me."

"I will... all over your desk... thinking about you..."

You're so close; you move back to the little bundle of nerves at the front of your folds, rubbing furiously back and forth, till you can feel you're just seconds away. Your body quivers when you approach the point of no return, the luscious precursor to an explosion of pleasure. When it hits you, you have to hold a hand over your mouth to suppress a scream of ecstasy, hips bucking wildly and messing up all your classmates' papers.

You're panting as you settle down, falling limp, while Sam chuckles, pumping his length a little faster than before. You can't let him come- you're not finished.

"Sam... fuck me... right here, on your desk," you beg with the energy you can muster. Your little body is so weak and exhausted, but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’ll submit to him, let him take however he wants to take you.

Sam rises up and approaches you without saying a word, just looking into your eyes with animalistic lust, his pupils so wide and dark, you can hardly see the hazel of his irises. His hair is ruffled in a way you've never seen- Sam's always had it pushed back tucked behind his ears. Seeing him like this, so wild and untamed, is such a delight.

"Sit on the edge," he commands. You obey.

His eyes dart to your panties, admiring the wetness soaking through the fabric. A single index finger hooks around the thin string at the side, and tugs at it. You shuffle your legs a bit to allow him to slide the panties completely off, and toss them right next to your bra. He positions the dripping head of his cock right at your entrance, and you instinctively hold your breath. Just as you think he's ready- he stops, instead rubbing his tip up and down your slick folds.

Sam uses his other arm to reach around your waist, and pull you close, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Can I trust my little slut hasn't picked something up something contagious?"

"Of course..." you sigh breathlessly, impatient, but knowing it was a necessary question to ask.

"And that she's not gonna get herself knocked up?"

“...yes...please...just...fuck me…” you moan in desperation.

“Then tell me. Tell me what you are,” he commands with such intensity you are genuinely terrified.

“I...I’m your student… I must do as my teacher tells me…”

“Good little schoolgirl,” he praises you, hand drifting down to your thighs, and finding the baby-soft skin that leads to your core. “She knows who her superior is.”

With a grunt, Sam pushes into you, all at once, and you can’t stop yourself from squealing in ecstasy. Nothing separates his skin and yours. He’s so big, stretching your walls so you feel like you might split in two, and you swear you can feel him pressing all the way inside, against your cervix. You arch your back to allow his entire length to enter you, and you watch him completely disappear as your inner walls stretch to their limit. He may put on the act that he couldn’t care less about your comfort, but you could see him waiting for a signal from you that he could get going.

“Sam... so big inside me,” you moan in a wispy, weak voice, and hoping that it will work as a clue. He starts to begin slow, passionate thrusts, you placing your arms straight out behind you for support, palms spread. He groans deeply, muttering profanities to himself as he glides in and out, and moves his enormous hands to your waist for leverage.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he says, audibly, and you shudder. “Bet you’ve never had a cock as big as mine up that little cunt. Never taken a class this... hard.”

You shake your head, panting, trying to form a simple “no.” And yet, you’re unable to even do that.

You’re fucking Mr. Winchester, this is really happening. You have given yourself over to him, body and soul. It’s so wrong, so forbidden, but you’re well aware it has only magnified your lust for your English teacher. No way will this be a one-time thing. Brought back to the present, you realize, if you don’t occupy your mouth, you’ll scream so loud the superintendent hears, and you couldn’t dare risk cutting short only the most passionate sex you could ever imagine.

Arms swing around the back of his neck, and you crash your mouths together roughly, feeling his tongue dive in to move against yours. The kiss is so sloppy, it’s not an act of intimacy, but more a need in desperation to intensify the experience, make it even more perfect, if possible. He picks up the pace, plunging into your throbbing cunt again and again, making sounds of skin slapping together. The angle he comes at you from has his shaft rubbing back and forth against your clit, while his head simultaneously rams into your g spot, both hyper-sensitive areas aching with pleasure.

Sam breaks his mouth away from yours as you sense he’s hardly in control of his wildly thrusting hips, moving so frantically, you know he’s close.

“Here’s your final,” he says, practically demanding your attention. “You’re gonna come with me, not before, not after. Am I clear?” You have no capacity to respond, but not even for a second would you refuse that order. He hooks a muscular arm around your leg, just at the crook of your knee, creating a position perfect to reach the absolute deepest penetration he could. When you hear a low growl ripple from his throat, you can’t hold on any longer, and waves of orgasm wash through you. The walls of your cunt pulse, triggering Sam at last. His hands dig into your skin as his cock spasms, sending thick streams of cum into you.

“Yes… fill me up…” you moan, so enjoying the warm sensation in your belly as Sam’s seed gushes from him. You’re on the pill, you assured him you wouldn't get pregnant from this. And even if you weren’t- you find yourself almost craving a little hazel-eyed baby inside you.

Finally exhausted as your climax subsides, you fall against his chest, so weak. The act is over; it was so mind-blowingly amazing while it lasted, but after the rush of hormones that came with your climax, you want him to be gentle, intimate with you again. He stays inside you for a bit longer, cradling your head against his chest, breathing heavily, but with each breath settling down. When he pulls out, you feel wetness, a mixture of your cum and his, drip all down your thighs, and even onto the surface of his desk.

“So, uh… essay due Friday, right?” you ask.

“Yup,” he responds. “And don’t forget the annotated bibliography,” he adds as he helps you back on your feet. He notices the little puddle and reaches for a tissue, but you assure him you’ve got it. Slowly, you lick the cum from the cool wooden surface, making mmmm noises. The taste isn’t like anything that comes to mind, but it’s a little sweet, and a little salty. It feels nice in your mouth.

“Look, Y/N,” he sighs as he reaches to retrieve his underwear and pants from their disheveled state on the tile floor. “This was great, I mean- really, really amazing- but I need you to know it can’t be a regular thing. I don’t want to lose my job, let alone end up in jail for statutory rape.”

Your heart drops suddenly, hit in an instant with absolute devastation. You had tasted heaven, and now he was going to rip it away.

“I won’t tattle!” you exclaim, protesting his decision, as you too start sliding your panties back on. They’re pretty wet, and so is the area they cover, so you’ll definitely have to run home and change.

“It’s not you who’s gonna get their life ruined,” he points out, and sadly, you can’t argue that he’s wrong. You wonder if it’s selfish of you to put him in this position, but it’s not like you forced him into anything. He’s an adult, he made that choice, and if he made it once, you’re sure with a little coaxing he’ll make it again.

You approach him, and tenderly run your hand along the side of his face, down to the dip below his chin. You’re determined; you’ll keep him no matter what it takes.

“It’s so wrong, isn’t it? Fucking your student who’s just under half your age, making her submit to your every command… and in your classroom of all places, where one knock on the door would ruin your life. But that just makes it better for you, I can tell. Taking advantage of an innocent little schoolgirl like me.” You reach up to kiss him, softly, and he doesn’t resist. You’re not trying to initiate round two, just hoping you can remind him of the bliss they found, and maybe he would change his mind- your sanity depends on it.

“We’ll see,” he sighs, giving in. “I have to be at a meeting now and lock up the room, so unless you wanna camp out here, you should probably go.”

You nod, and finish dressing yourself, before grabbing your backpack from your desk. On the surface of his, papers and wrinkled and folded, spread out in a chaotic arrangement, some even on the floor.

“See ya tomorrow… Sam,” you say, smiling, as you walk confidently out of the classroom, making an effort to sway your hips dramatically. "I'll be thinking of this tonight when I'm... doing my homework." A wink, and you're out the door.

…

You can’t think about anything but English class the next day, so excited to see Sam, and harbor the secret you wish you could scream to the heavens, that you fucked your teacher. And it was every bit as perfect as you’d imagined- more. Moving sluggishly through the day, every class is drawn out drudgery for you, writing things mindlessly on paper while a monotone-voiced teacher points at words on a projector.

When you’re finally released from Physics, a bubbling sensation of giddiness ripples through you- 6th period is finally here. As you stroll into the spacious classroom, wearing the skimpiest little skirt that dress code would allow, you see your handsome teacher handing back the rough drafts to your classmates.

“Um, why does this look like it got crumbled?” some girl sneers, holding her hand up in the air as if she expected some overly apologetic response. You fight the urge to smack her right across her skanky little mouth.

“Some of the papers got shuffled in my briefcase. Sorry about that,” he responds, smoothly dismissing the complaint.

You hold your breath as you anticipate him coming over to you. Naturally, your paper is last. As he hands it to you, you see his eyes drift slyly down your body; you hope he’s remembering what you look like naked, cause you sure can’t stop thinking about the body underneath his suit, so astonishingly perfect, any Greek god would be green with envy. Your eyes are, of course, drawn to his lower torso, looking with great focus to find the outline of his dick. It isn’t really hard; he’s rocking a bit of a semi. It’s nice knowing he’s pretty excited about seeing you too. Unfortunately for him, he’s going to have to find a way to hide it.

“Excellent work,” he says, lowering the stapled papers onto your desk. “I thought our meeting yesterday was… very productive.” He smiles knowingly. You’re getting pretty turned on yourself.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you respond, using the collected voice you would with any teacher.

As you flip through the paper, you see the familiar handwriting in red ink underlining things, crossing out extraneous words and phrases, making suggestions. Genuinely trying to improve your essay, which you actually appreciate greatly. You reach the end, and there are several lines of writing in the blank space under where your last paragraph ends.

Your conclusion needs some development, and in general you should use deeper literary analysis to support your thesis in more specific ways. 1983 Lawrence Ave. It might benefit you to add another example to your third body paragraph, possibly a quote from the documentary we watched, since you haven’t used anything from that source yet. 8 o’clock. Overall, great job, just needs a bit of tweeking. Let's meet again outside of class to discuss it.

You don’t bother suppressing the huge grin spreading across your face.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!! Leave kudos and comments to make my day <3
> 
> AND IN REAL LIFE USE CONDOMS FOR SPONTANEOUS HOOK UPS OK


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